


A Perfect Night

by kirschtrash



Series: Musical Musings [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bad Puns, Basically, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Hogwarts Era, Humor, IM NOT EVEN KIDDING, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, POV Jean Kirstein, School Dances, This is just really fluffy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, oh and, really really bad puns, u might get diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jean promises a perfect night, with his freckled date - and he delivers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally nothing but a big pot of tooth rotting fluff, and nothing else. Enjoy! <3
> 
> here's my [tumblr](http://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash) tho c:

_[listen to this for the feel/as background music](http://www.freedownloadanimemusic.com/wp-content/grand-media/audio/I_need_you.mp3) _

* * *

 

**_A Perfect Night_ **

 

The sun’s shining bright, the heavy beams illuminating the entirety of the library. Above, I can see a blue, blue sky, with a few tufts of white clouds, that almost look like cotton candy. Below, I can hear students chatter with their friends; from where I’m sitting, I can see most of the girls dipping their naked feet into the Lake’s rippling waters. Meanwhile, other guys were chasing each other joyously, having a good laugh.

I inhale deeply, and then exhale. Today is the day.

Well, today definitely _feels_ like it.

Today, is the day I’ll ask someone out to the much anticipated Yule Ball - I’ll ask _him_ out.

“Would you stop ogling at the sky like some maiden, and try helping me out with this damn clue?!” I hear Eren cry in dismay from across me.

I sigh; I never understood what force on Earth tried picking Eren Jaeger as a champion for the Triwizard Tournament. As brave and fearless he might have seemed - like a true Gryffindor - he’d always get stuck when it came to solving puzzles, and most importantly, clues as tricky and time-consuming as the Triwizard Tournament’s.

“You got yourself in this mess,” I tease, shrugging, “so you help yourself.”

The only reply he gives is a garbled groan. It rings a bit too loudly; it’s why the librarian - Ms. Hanji - gives him one sharp look. It instantly makes him shut up, as he buries his face in his hands. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him.

But today isn’t about Eren. It’s about _him_.

“I see _you’ve_ finally grown the balls to ask Marco out,” Eren states - or, _garbled_ out of his mouth, promptly covered by his palms.

Just as I hear that name, I blush almost instantly; that name is way more than just a name - it belongs to someone so endearing, so kind, so noble, and just so damn _cute-_

I shake the thought away. “W-well, yeah-”

“You better do it now, y’know. The dance is only four days away - and if he’s already taken, then I’m not going to tend to your broken heart all day!”

I roll my eyes at that. “Okay, okay fine!”

I stand up from my seat against the window. I try making my appearance somewhat presentable; I smooth my terribly-wrinkled white school shirt, and straighten my red-and-gold striped tie, symbolizing the brave House of Gryffindor. I definitely don’t feel as courageous as one, but I have to act like it, at least.

I inhale, and exhale. _Inhale. Exhale_. Today is the day - it has to be.

Squaring my shoulders, I walk away from our table. With quick steps and fleeting glances, I try and search for him.

It is only a few hours past noon, I note - a time we might have once spent in classes. But recently, the teachers had given us more than a few breaks; almost every teacher had been preoccupied with the preparations for the Ball. Thus, every student spent what free, blissful time they had out in the grounds.

With a few steps more, I stop myself in one ordinary section of the library, not too far from where I had been - just as my eyes lay on a figure bent over a table, scribbling away on his parchment with all his attention.

Though most liked enjoying their free time outside, some did not; one man who liked staying in the library more often, was the one who sat before me - Marco Bodt.

He’s still scribbling on his piece of paper without the slightest care of the world around him. And it’s not unlike him, after all. He’s one of the bright students of our batch, that always gave their assignments on time, who always scored the greatest marks, and who never wasted their time - just like any other Hufflepuff.

He’s monotonous in that sense, to most, but to me… he’s anything but boring.

Like the way he always pokes the tip of his tongue out of his mouth whenever he’s too invested in his work - just like he did now - makes him stand out effortlessly. The way his eyebrows scrunch in the center of his forehead when he’s thinking too hard make him even more endearing than he already is. His brilliant smile that shines right through him, just like the Sun, always make me melt to my core - and his laugh… it’s like a thousand symphonies strung together to create the most perfect song ever.

He’s anything but boring. He’s just something _else_.

Suddenly, he looks up - and squeaks at the sight of me.

Only after he’s clutched his chest, does he pant out, “Jesus, Jean, you scared me!”

It is then that I realize that I was probably staring at him like a total creep for a few minutes straight.

Sheepishly, I rub the back of my neck. “Ah, sorry - you seemed busy, so I- I can come later, if you want-”

“Oh no, please! You can come, I won’t bite,” he smiles, and good Merlin, that smile, with the way his freckles just shine like stars - it makes my heart stutter.

As I seat myself across from him, he leans in over his work, a freshly dipped quill in his hand. He asks softly, “So, you wanted help in something?”

I shake my head. “No- I mean, you’ve helped my ass back in Transfiguration countless of times.”

“Pfft, that’s nothing - I’m happy to help!”

I'm caught slightly off-guard by his pure kindness, but he brings me back to Earth:

“So,” he pushes on, “if not that, then…?”

The mere look he gives makes my throat go dry - _come on_ , I think, _just ask already_.

I try my measly luck: I gulp dryly, as I start, “S-so, y’know that… That there’s this Yule Ball comin’ around…”

“Yeah?”

“And many guys around are- are asking people out…”

“Y-yeah?”

“S-so, I- I uh…” I stutter. My hands clench and open up in my lap repeatedly, yet I can’t seem to utter out those words: _‘will you go out with me?’_

_C’mon, Jean, say it, you won’t get the chance next time-_

“Uh, Jean,” Marco asks, unsure, “Are you... okay?”

“N-no, I’m fine, I’m fine! Why would you ask?” I squeak. I bite my lip hard - _say it, say it now, say it now damn it-_

“You look pale, though-”

But I cut him right off:

“ _WillyougototheYuleBallwithme_?”

The words tumble out of my mouth like a waterfall, and there is no time machine that can make me take all those words back. I just practically _barked_ at my crush to go out with me - what impression would that give, if not a psychotic one?!

I’m already regretting my choice the minute I said it out loud. My heart sinks when he just sits there, silent, his eyes blown wide. Maybe today wasn’t the day, after all.

I’m about to get up and run away from this terrible mistake I did, until I see Marco’s face turn pink.

It’s then I realize that he’s _blushing_.

“M-marco?” I ask, more like wheeze out - but this time, I’m the one who’s cut off:

“ _Y-yes!_ ” he exclaims loudly, before slapping his mouth shut with his hands.

It feels as if the world just stopped.

“W-what-” I try to ask, but Ms. Hanji just butts in again. She stands at the end of the table, giving us yet another cold glare of hers. It makes us both shrink in our seats, until she leaves. When she does, we stare at each other.

And then, we laugh.

I try muffling my laughter, but I feel too ecstatic to even care; I’m laughing, he’s laughing, and _did he just said yes to my invitation-_

Only after we’re back to breathing normally, do I ask again: “Y-you sure?”

“Yes,” he breathes, wiping his eyes free of tears of mirth. “I thought no one would ask me, really- of course I’ll go with you!”

I nod, feeling a blush already heat up my skin - damn it. But then, I feel puzzled too; why would he think no one would ask him out? _Him_ , of all people? He’s practically irresistible! The fact that he can’t see it in himself makes me frustrated. Before I can say anything else, he glances at his watch, perplexed.

“Oh, I- uh- I have to go,” Marco tells me, gathering up his things, “I promised going over some notes with Armin, so-”

But before he goes on, I start giggling.

He squints at me. “What’s wrong…?”

Only after taking in a breath, do I tell him, “You’ve got ink on your face, smart-ass.”

Marco squeaks in surprise, trying to feel the blotch away from his skin, but he’s not going anywhere like that. Damn, to think he looks cute even with ink on his face.

“Is it gone now?”

“Not even close, _just-_  hey, let me do it.”

The words leave my mouth before I even register them. I stand up, and get near him, squinting at the speck of ink on his chin. He’s only a few inches taller than me, but I’ve never minded the height difference. From here, I can smell the fragrance of pumpkin juice he must have drunk in the morning. From here, I can also see the mass of freckles dusted all over his cheeks, like sugar topped on a scrumptious dessert.

Without thinking, I lift my thumb, and smudge the black spot off his skin. I linger over his skin longer than I had to; I notice how warm his skin is more than I need to.

After what feels like forever, Marco asks, “Is it… Is it gone now?”

“Y-yeah,” I reply, shaking myself out of my state of reverie. I back a few steps away, letting Marco wipe his inky hands over his robes - a bad habit of his. He’s making his way out of that section, when he stops.

“So,” he chirps, as he turns to face me, “We’ll- we’ll meet on the Yule Ball?”

“Yes.”

“Will you escort me?”

I nod again. “Is 6 PM okay?”

“Yup, it’s a date!”

It’s moments after he’s left the library, do I realize what he just said - and the fact that he didn’t even pause to correct himself.

It’s a date, after all. I smile to myself like a complete fool.

* * *

 

Finally, today is the day.

Today is the day, that I will escort Marco to the Yule Ball.

The thought still makes me heart sing. After waiting for days that felt like forever, the day has finally arrived; I still can’t believe it - it’s not everyday that your crush agrees to go out with you on a night as special as the Yule Ball.  
But with that ecstatic feeling, comes in a constant dread that makes my limbs heavy and nerves jittery to the touch; if I were to take Marco Bodt to the Ball, then everything had to be good - perfect, even. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to Marco - what if someone ended up throwing pumpkin juice all over him, for all I know? _What then-_

“If you’re still thinking about all the ways your date is gonna end badly, then I will not hesitate to smack you,” Eren drags from where he sits on his bed.

“Sh-shut up!” I counter, as I fix my silvery cuff links. Once I’ve adjusted it, I stare at my reflection; the sleek, black dress robes my mother picked for me aren’t bad at all - they hug my shoulders and waist just enough to feel, and look, taller than I am. The robes flutter around my shins, but it has a sort of elegance to it - a modern vibe to it.

I don’t look too bad, I must say.

“You’re forgetting something,” Eren sings from behind me. When I turn around, I see a white, silken cloth hanging from his slim fingers - my bow tie.

“Tie it around me,” I mutter, “I don’t know how to.”

But Eren takes that fact a bit too smugly, annoyingly so. When he stands in front of me, he grins. “Looks like someone finally learned to appreciate a friend!”

“Shut up!”

“Alright, alright, don’t soil your suit already,” he sighs, as he works his magic, his fingers prepping up a neat bow delicately. He’s always known the ways suits work, all from the kinds of cuff links, to the type of tie used to wrap the whole look together. He picked those tips and tricks all from his father - and it’s now I realize how handy that talent of his really is. Soon enough, with one last tug, my entire dress was complete.

I’m soon fighting an inner battle on how to comb my hair, when I glance at the clock.

“ _Shit-_ it’s 6!” I swear. Hurriedly running hands through my hair, I skid out of the dorm rooms, right out of the Common Room.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” Eren calls out as I run down the stairs. “Good luck with your Prince Charming, Cinderella!”

This time, I’m not irritated - I let it fuel what little confidence I have, burning inside my chest.

As I walk out into the vast hallways, I see the mass of students, all dressed up in fine robes and elegant dresses. The girls wear sleek, marvelous gowns that hug their waists just enough to show their womanly curves; the boys wear smart, black, handsome robes, suiting each and every one’s figure perfectly. Some sport a plain black tie, while others dare to wear a bright red bow-tie, but really, they all look somewhat similar.

I’m dodging girls and boys alike to make my way towards the Hufflepuff entrance - that is where I had promised to meet him, after all. I curse, as I glance at my watch again; _I’m ten minutes late_ , I think, _how will I even find him with all this crowd?_

But that isn’t a problem, not when I look before me.

The sight makes me stop in my tracks; there, on the top of a flight of stairs, stands Marco Bodt, in dress robes as white as milk. They hug his broad shoulders, accentuate his lean back, and curves around his chest so perfectly, before they flair, to pool around his legs. When he turns around, I see a neat black bow tied around his neck, too. His hair are combed back a little, revealing more of his face.

He looks so simple - and yet he stands out from the rest. I can’t help but sigh at it all.

Instantly, I wave at him: “Hey, Marco!”

My voice carries to him easily, despite the constant chatter in the air. He meets my gaze, and smiles brightly.

“Jean!” he says, before making his way towards me. It’s when he’s so close to me do I realize how _well_ the robes suit him, with black, contrasting dress pants. It’s hard to speak when my mouth feels so dry- it’s gonna be a long, long night.

“Marco…” I say, looking him up and down. “Y-you look… You look- amazing.”

I could not have worded it out as honest as that.

He flushes a pretty pink, before saying, “Th-thank you. And you look dashing, too!”

I thank him (and also try not to burn there and then.)

Suddenly, our teacher arrives in the hallway, and calls us all into the Great Hall.

Just on cue, Marco and I look at each other.

“Well,” I say, feeling a flare of confidence inside of me, “May I escort you to a lovely night?” I hold out my elbow to him, as an option.

Marco giggles, before looping his arm around mine, saying, “Why, you most certainly may!”

And like that, the pair of us walk into a good night, with arms looped around each others. The gesture is simple, so plain, but it doesn’t keep my heart from beating erratically against my chest - not when all I can feel is how close, how warm Marco feels, right next to me.

*****

 

The Yule Ball began with a subtlety I've never seen Hogwarts truly show. First, the three Champions, along with their partners, entered the Great Hall, the whole place decorated magnificently in white; the walls were washed in an opalescent white, and the floor glimmered like frozen ice right beneath our feet - so delicate, yet intricately beautiful. Above our heads, the ceiling was enchanted to look like white clouds, that scattered snowflakes over everyone.  
First, the three Champions, along with their chosen partners, entered the center of the Great Hall with elegance, and sure footsteps. Stopping in the middle, they paired up, and began dancing to a soft violin. I was pleased to see Eren dancing rather gracefully with the even more graceful Mikasa, his partner. Slowly, the three finished their numbers; with gentle curtsies and deep bows, they left the spotlight.

With that, the Ball continued on into the night.

Marco and I had soon grown hungry, which is why we stand beside the snacks table, now. Slowly, the two of us sip our glasses full of fruity punch, and talk lightly with one another; about our assignments, about our breaks, about the Triwizard Tournament, and it’s pending results.

“But I seriously think that Eren can win,” Marco judges with a nod, “Though Reiner from the Stohess’ Wizarding School has the upper hand strength wise, Eren definitely has sharper instincts.”

As much as I tease Eren about it, I nod at Marco’s statement. He is write, after all; in the Triwizard Tournament, strength and muscles won’t get you to the cup - true, sharp survival instincts get you to win.

“And do you know something, Jean?”

“What?”

“Reiner has a big crush on me.”

My eyes grow wide at that; Reiner? _That_ pompous douchebag? _All he knows is how to strut in front of girls shirtless,_ I mentally seethe, _surely Marco wouldn’t like that guy over me-_

_...or could he?_

The thought would have made my heart sink, if it wasn’t for Marco laughing all of a sudden.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry-” he wheezes, “I just had to- your face was just epic!”

I can feel my neck heat up in embarrassment; trying my best to cover it up, I roll my eyes, saying, “ _Har, har, har_ , Marco.”

But that doesn’t stop him from giggling into his fist. And for a moment, I’m glad he doesn’t stop - his eyes don’t shine that bright just any other day.

He recovers himself with a cough. He nods towards where Reiner stood across the Hall, saying, “To be honest, I think he’s into Bertholdt.”

I squawk in shock. “B-bertholdt? From Gryffindor?”

Marco nods enthusiastically, “Then again, could be rumors - but there’s no denying how… _ehm_ … intently he stares at him most of the times.”

I squint at Marco. “You don’t seem like the stalker guys, y’know.”

Marco hums into the rim of his glass. With a cheeky smirk, he bumps his hip against mine, saying, “There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me, _Kirschtein_.”

The way he almost purrs my surname make me lose track of what I was about to say, before I snap out of it.  
Our conversation falls into soft silence as we look around us. It definitely is a lovely event; everyone dressed so grandly, with everyone enjoying a good night with their partners. The soft notes of a tune still play slowly, filling the air around us with it’s gentle melodies. I sigh into my cup; I could definitely get used to nights like this.

From across the Hall, I see Eren talking with Mikasa, chuckling at a joke lightly. When his eyes land on me, he stills; he then lifts one arm up, then curves the other. I squint at him suspiciously; _what game is he playing?_ It’s not until he starts moving his hips a little, do I understand-

I instantly shake my head.

Eren rolls his eyes, practically shouting _“you’re an idiot!”_ at me. And I probably am; I asked him out after all. I should be the one to take his hand, lead him to the dance floor, hold his hand in mine, and _then-_

But I can’t. I don’t have the guts.

“Well,” Marco says after a while, “y’know what I feel like doing right now?”

“What?”

“ _Dancing_.”

I gape at him.

“B-but there’s no one on the floor right now-” I counter, but Marco’s too far gone to even care.

“Oh come on! That just makes me wanna dance more! It’ll be fun!” he interjects, with a smile. He says no more; he grabs my right hand, and drags me to the floor. As much as the feeling of his warm hand around mine makes me feel like floating, the empty floor looming right up to me just makes my legs turn to jelly.  
I still try fighting it, but it’s all in vain. Marco will have none of it; he’s too adamant to dance, to be the first one dancing. For a moment, I have to admire his confidence; no one ever dances first, deeming it _“embarrassing”_. But he doesn’t even give the slightest of cares; he doesn’t care if others stare at him, laugh at him, or even remotely judge him - he just wants to have fun.

I should let him, at the least.

And so I give in; with quick footsteps, we’re already on the glittering floor. Up close, it looks just like a frozen river, it’s surface so blue, and delicate - I’m half afraid I’ll end up breaking it.

Marco stops in front of me. But before he goes forward, I tell him the fact:

“I’m telling you, I’m not- I can’t dance-”

“Well, so can’t I, to be honest,” Marco confesses with a tiny, shy smile, “but I wanna try it with you.”

That sentence makes me heat up. Marco still gripping my right hand doesn’t make it any better - he wants to dance; and so I shall.

With a smile, I nod to him. And so does he, his smile growing even wider.

When he takes both of my hands, guiding one over his shoulder, I truly feel just how warm he is; he is practically radiating with warmth. It makes me want to hold him like that forever. Slowly, he wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, slowly, slowly - till there’s only a breath’s distance apart our chests. It’s so hard to breathe this way, when this bright man holds me like this, and my chest aches for this feeling I’ve never felt this strongly.

And then - we dance.

It isn’t exactly _dancing,_ not what our instructor, Madam Rico taught us; slowly, the two of us only sway from one side, and then to the other. When the music picks up a little bit more, we start moving our feet, a nervous smile prickling Marco’s lips. I feel myself grow heated when I realize all the students staring at us two, dancing all by ourselves - so much so, I end up stepping on Marco’s feet more than once:

“Fuck,” I curse, after I step on him for the umpteenth time, “I-I’m no good at this-”

“Hey,” Marco counters softly. When he says that, I look up at him. He smiles at me, squeezing my hand reassuringly. “We aren’t here to win some competition - we’re here to have fun.”

For a moment, I just stare at him, mouth slightly open. _Is there anything fault in this man_ , I think, _or is he just that flawless?_

At a loss for words, I just nod, and I obey him; for once, I try not to stay too uptight for too long. It gets hard when there are so many people staring at you like you’re some creep - but when I lead him on, and his eyes crinkle at the edges with mirth so perfectly; well, it makes me forget everything else.  
When the violins kick in, I dare myself; I grip his hands a little tighter, and turn him around in a circle. Marco catches on, helping us two twirl around each other - and the little giggle I earn from him makes my heart swell. Maybe I laughed, too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a pair of students coming onto the dance floor. Then another, and another - until the whole floor is hidden by students dancing with their partners. As the music progresses on, I even see teachers coming over, dragging in their friends and close ones to dance a bit; from the humble professors of Hogwarts, down to the foreign ones, visiting us for the much anticipated Tournament. Even the rugged, Russian-esque students from Stohess’ Wizarding School try and loosen up a bit.

I can’t contain a scoff when I see someone really familiar-

I squeeze Marco’s hand to get his attention. “Someone’s having the time of their lives,” I tell him, pointing my chin to my right.

Strategically, to avoid us getting caught, I swirl Marco around, so that he can actually see who's the lucky one tonight.

He finally does see, a giggle erupting from his mouth.

“Well, would you look at that,” he comments, “turns out I was right.”

I can’t help but chuckle, looking back at the sight; right at the center of the dance floor, the audacious Reiner holds hands with the feeble Bertholdt, and the two dance. Reiner’s smiling like a complete goof, while Bertholdt’s trying his best to sink right into the ground - but there’s no denying that tiny smile he’s betraying.

“God, the height difference is so comical,” I say. And it’s true, Reiner - as loud as he is - barely reaches Bert’s shoulders.

Marco laughs brightly, before scrunching his nose in thought. _God, that’s adorable_.

We’re dancing to the soft melody slowly, our feet perfectly in sync, when he says, “I guess everything Bert says just goes over Reiner’s head.”

I just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he said - until I _get it_.

Marco’s pressed his lips in a straight line, not letting out any laugh. I just squint at him.

“Did you just do what I think you did?”

Marco splutters comically, “Oh, what did I say? I’ll definitely say one thing - Bert will have to _stand tall_ to get Reiner!”

“Oh my God, stop, Marco-” I say, shaking my head.

“-It’s _high time_ Bertholdt tried dating, too!”

I can’t help it - I start chuckling. Marco’s laughing along, till we’re the only two giggling like teenagers inside the whole Hall.

It’s not until a few students start staring at us again, do I attempt to quiet myself down. I bring Marco closer, saying, “Two can play that game, Freckles.”

Marco smirks, accepting the challenge. Staring around myself, I spot our Defense Against The Dark Arts professor - Professor Levi Ackerman. At the moment, he’s only grimacing at the dance floor, with his arms folded over his dark robes. Despite how rather serene he looked, he had this way he carried himself, which always made him seem as bold as the Minister of Magic. It almost seems as if he isn’t even breathing; he’s as still as a rock. Beside him, stands our librarian, Ms. Hanji.  
It’s when she drags Professor Levi onto the dance floor, do I smirk; if I thought the height difference between Bertholdt and Reiner was comical - then I had something entirely different out of Ms. Hanji and Professor Levi’s odd pairing.

“Well, will you look at that,” I say nonchalantly, “Professor Levi seems to be in a _small_ problem.”

When Marco stares at my line of direction, he splutters.

“O-oh my,” he says. Nearing me, he says slowly, “hope he doesn’t have to leave in such _short_ notice.”

I chuckle under my breathe. “Maybe Ms. Hanji won’t have any problem with Professor Levi - she won’t have to shush him at all.”

“That’s a point I can’t _silence._ ”

“But,” I grin, gripping Marco’s shoulder. I pull him closer, till there’s not even a breath’s distance between us. I bring my mouth close to his ear, and say:

“Ms. Hanji will have a _tiny_ problem with his  _short_ temper.”

That does the trick: Marco’s lost it instantly, a giggle erupting out of him-

-till he’s _snorting_ in between.

Normally, I’d have been grossed out. But God, when it’s _Marco_ laughing till he snorts, _him_ hiding his smile and odd noises behind his hands - it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

He’s still losing it, pressing his forehead on my shoulder as he tries to regain himself. And as much as the proximity between us startles me, his much more contagious laughter and even cuter snorts catch me quicker, till I’m wiping tears of mirth out of my eyes.

“Oh my god-” Marco wheezes, “Wouldn’t that be a bit of a- a _shortcoming_.”

Even I can’t control myself; we both crack up. Like that, we keep on cracking the lamest of puns and jokes we can manage, till I’m certain I’ve burst a lung laughing. I don’t even realize that we were the only ones laughing like goofs right in the middle of the dance floor, our giggles so loud we almost block out the music completely.

Our voices die out in a resonating echo, when a pair of sharp, tawny eyes snap at us. Our grins drop instantly;

There’s Professor Petra, with her hands on her hips. And she’s angry.

*

“Oh my God, I _can’t-_ ”

“Oh Jean, are you a little out of breath?”

I have to pause myself, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My stomach’s hurting from how much I’m laughing, and yet I can’t stop- Marco’s happiness is catching, like that.

He leans against the wall beside me, mirroring my stance.

I wipe my forehead, staring at him. Marco does the same; the two of us only… look at each other. Marco’s still wheezing, cheeks flushed pink from laughing too much - and it's then I notice how beautiful he looks like that, his slightly darker freckles lighting up like stars. His eyes are a different story; they’re glittering like two gemstones, and they reflect such a feeling of bliss, I feel my chest inflate with it. My eyes flit to his lips, and a thought crosses my mind;

We’re so close, I could just stand on my top toes, lean in a little and then…

But do I even have the guts to take that risk?

Before I can dwell on it for longer, Marco breaks the silence with a question:

“Could we go outside?”

I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Outside?” I ask.

He nods, cracking a smile, “Well, we just got kicked out of the Great Hall, so…”

“What if someone finds us-”

Marco scoffs, “We aren’t leaving Hogwarts; we’ll just… roam for a bit. We don’t have much else to do, either. So are you... up for it?”

Unconsciously, I feel heat creep up my cheeks. Us two, walking out in a starlit night, alone - it almost sounds too good to be true.

But I accept the offer: “You’ve got a deal, Freckles.”

Marco laughs, a puff of breath, before standing straight again. He fixes his robes a bit, before pulling out his elbow - for _me_ :

“So, shall we make this night ours?”

Jesus Christ, I think, this man will be the end of me.

“S-sure,” I splutter, positively burning under his gaze, wrapping my arm around his.

And like that, we walk down the large, spacious hallway. The music slowly dies out, till our footsteps are the only voices that echo, along with our calm breaths. As we make our way silently, I start feeling his warmth beside me a little too much - till it’s almost searing. I try my best not to glance at him too much. I have to pretend as if he didn’t just do the same thing.

When we walk out into the open, I’m greeted with something different from inside;

Grass that once looked a rich, earthy green, now almost seems black. Everything else also looks blanketed with darkness; I have to squint in order to make out the willowy trees around us - the much distant ones are almost invisible.

But when I look up, I can’t help but gasp.

The sky’s anything but dark - it’s _shining_ , with a million stars; they blink at the pair of us, winking brightly from a billion light years away. They crowd against one another over the dark, ominous, velvety fabric of the sky - till they outshine even the Sun. The night’s dark, and yet it _glows._

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I hear Marco ask.

The scenery has taken my breath away completely - I can only nod.

“Even when I’m in a school that teaches magic,” Marco continues, “I can’t help but see, that…”

I turn to him. “That…?”

He isn’t looking at me. When he completes himself, with a lick of his lips, he’s still staring at the stars:

“That the world’s truly got a magic of it’s own - sometimes, we just… _forget_ , don’t we?”

I don’t reply straight away; I’m completely enamored by this person’s mere presence. Here stands Marco Bodt, as beautiful as the night itself, with freckles that look just like stars; here’s Marco Bodt, a pure Hufflepuff that has a heart as bright as the Sun - here’s _Marco_ , someone I’m falling for so hard, so fast.

It’s a few moments later I realize that I might have been staring at him like a dumb ass - _again_.

I blink a few times, before smiling softly, as I say, “Y-yeah. Definitely.” I’ve never spoken words as true as that.

Side by side we stand, staring at the stars as if we had never seen them before. Many a night I’ve looked above me, and looked at the stars, but only warily. It’s only now do I take the time to truly see them, and commit them to memory. And it feels more majestic than ever; every slight tilt of my face makes them glimmer, and where I’d see one star vanish, two would appear there and then to replace them. It’s all magical.

What makes it perfect, is the presence of someone special, beside me.

After what feels like forever, Marco breaks the silence:

“So, um… y-you’re not mad at me, are you?”

My eyes snap at him. “What? Why would I be?”

“For kicking us out of the Great Hall?”

Marco looks so genuinely guilty about it, I have to scoff to make him feel better:

“Are you kidding me?” I say, “It wasn’t your fault, anyway - I was cracking as many puns as you were, so I guess we’re even.”

Marco laughs at that, hiding his brilliant laugh behind his fist.

“And besides,” I find myself thinking out loud, “It’s the most fun I’ve had in… in a long time.”

I’ve never spoken truer words than those.

It makes Marco startle; his eyes blow a little wide, his mouth falls open just slightly.

And then he breaks into the most genuine smile he’s ever shone anyone. And it feels so damn special, to be the one on the receiving end.

My heart beats erratically in my chest. Just tell him, tell him-

“R-really?” Marco asks.

I find myself nodding. “Well, yeah,” I answer. I’m tracing something on the ground with the tip of my shoe, as I continue, “I - I mean, everything was grand and all, but… I don’t know how to say it.”

When I look up, Marco’s gotten a step closer. He asks, “Try?”

_Tell him, tell him, just tell him-_

I lick my chapped lips. “I-it's just - everyone was having a good time, inside, but… but what we did, was what ‘ _fun_ ’ actually was.”

One step, and another, he comes closer.

“A-and,” I stutter, “ _you_ showed that to me. And it was- it was special, too...”

Another step. There’s only a foot’s distance between us.

“S-so, I just wanted to... to _thank_ you for that, Marco.” I finally say, staring at my feet.

There’s a pause, a long, long pause that feels suffocating. The same thing pounds in my mind: _tell him, tell him, tell him-_

But then I feel a puff of breath over the top of my head. I look up, to be met with the richest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Y’know,” he whispers, “Y-you looked… a-amazing, when you laughed.”

I’ve forgotten every alphabet of the English language - I’m too transfixed by Marco; I’m trying to find some humor within his brown eyes, but they’re steely with this honesty - that he means what he says.

He _likes_ my laugh.

_Tell him, tell him, tell him._

There’s only a breath’s distance between us - possibly even less; from here, I can count his freckles. From here, I can smell the hint of cologne he wore. From here, I can make out flecks of hazel bordering his irises, that practically glow, even in the dark. From here, I can make out the bow of his soft lips. He’s so, so close.

_Tell him, tell him, tell him-_

But I don’t.

Instead, I show him.

I lean in, and try to kiss him.

But it doesn’t exactly work out the way I had in mind.

Instead of meeting his lips, my nose crashes into his.

With a yowl, the two of us pull back. My eyes water from how hard I just fucking rammed my face right into his. Marco’s still gasping, holding his nose in his hands.

_What have I done. What have I done-_

Wasn’t today the day?

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, “I’m- I’m so sorry, Marco, shit. I didn’t want that to happen, I- uh-”

But my panicky tantrum is interrupted by Marco, _laughing_.

I don’t understand; I just stare at him, helpless. Is that a laugh of good humor, or is he just… mocking me?

Either way, I can’t handle the mess I just made; an attempt at kissing my crush ended up with me headbutting him. Great. That’s worthy of pinning it up against a wall.

Before Marco can notice my heart sinking in my chest, I mutter, “I’m sorry- I’ll just leave-”

But I’m interrupted - again.

Not by some giggle, or a scoff. Not by any form of verbal communication.

I’m interrupted by a pair of warm hands, holding my cheeks gently - and an even warmer pair of lips enveloping mine.

I’m too startled to even react to the kiss. But when Marco’s soft, soft lips tilt just slightly, I can feel my breath leaving me slowly. I sigh through my nose, moving my lips against his slowly, subtly. His fingers trail into my undercut, thumbs trailing over my cheeks. Daring, I part my lips, prying his open, too. The attempt makes him smile against me, a smile I kiss over and over, tasting the bliss he’s feeling.  
It’s then that I taste the punch he drank, and never has it tasted so appealing. It’s intoxicating, and I find myself wanting nothing but to live in that moment forever - with his fingers in my hair, and my lips on his.

But soon, we need oxygen. Ever so slowly, we break apart.

I say the first thing in my mind, without the slightest bit of hesitance: “I - I really, _really_ like you.”

Marco’s giggles so bashfully, it makes me want to kiss him again.

“ _I like you too_ ,” he answers back, hands leaving my face, trailing down my arms. And even though that much was pretty evident from the kiss - those words still make my heart sing.

After a silence that feels like an eternity, I ask:

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Are you sure you won't try breaking my nose again?”

I roll my eyes, muttering, “Jee, thanks.”

Marco laughs softly, nudging his nose against mine playfully. I could definitely get used to this.

I could also get used to what he says next:

“Yes, _please_.”

And I do; a hand cradling his jaw, I lean up, meeting his lips halfway. This time, I kiss him just right, till both of us are sighing and smiling at the same time.

The night’s never felt so perfect.

*

 

“Well, you definitely delivered your promise.”

We’re practically the last ones to return to our respective dorms; the hallways had been empty, and the Great Hall even emptier. It’s why Marco’s comment echoes against the marbled walls so much.

“My _promise_?” I ask.

Marco, who walks beside me, nudges his shoulder against mine. “On ‘ _escorting me to a lovely night_ ’.”

The thought makes me blush. Well, it had been lovely, hadn’t it?

I’m too embarrassed to reply, so I only look at my feet. But either way, I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his. He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back - just because I can. Just because I want to.

I escort him to his Hufflepuff dormitories first. When we’re there, my heart sinks a little. And here, we have to call such a perfect night to an end.

Our entwined hands hang between us. It’s a second later I notice that I’ve been staring at it for so long.

Marco suddenly speaks up: “Thank you, for such a great night, Jean.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle at the edges. I make it sure to trace them someday, maybe even kiss them, if we even go that far - I hope we do. I want us to.

I say the first thing that comes in my mind:

“Thank _you,_ Marco.” (I’ve never spoken words truer than that.)

Marco responds with a soft, warming smile. Squeezing my hand again, he leans close. I find myself doing the same, till we kiss again, for the umpteenth time; this one's softer, just a brush of our lips. But it tingles just as much; it lingers on just as long.

When he pulls apart, he whispers into my ear:

“See you tomorrow.”

I don’t let his hand go until I squeeze them back - daringly, I kiss his cheek before he goes any farther. It earns me a blush, and a cheeky smile. (I hope to earn more of those for the rest of my life.)

The last thing I see before he vanishes into his Common Room is a brilliant smile that shines just like the stars did tonight.

Moments later, I find myself sighing away in an empty hallway - at a night spent so wonderfully; at a dance spent with so much fun; at a smile from my freckled date, that made butterflies flutter in my stomach; at a kiss that still tingles; at a possibility of something more with Marco Bodt.

I grin at a single thought:

Today definitely _was_ a perfect night.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing JM fluff - a perfect way to de-stress urself! 
> 
> ANYWAY comment if u loved it or didn't like it!! I appreciate it all <3


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